As she entered Vivian’s office, she ignored the twitch between her legs and tried hard not to stare at Vivian, who was wearing a dark blue blouse that brought out her eyes and made her skin look like cream.

Were her breasts bigger? Probably. That often happened during pregnancy.

Get it under control, Jules told herself, at least until tonight.

Vivian leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes briefly, and hummed. She was obviously tired, but it looked like…something else.

Jules tried not to whimper.

Vivian opened her eyes again, stunned Jules into immobility with their beauty, and said, “Find a suitable venue for a little party in mid-April.”

She hauled her brain to its feet with an effort that nearly killed her and said, “Uh…how little?”

“Let’s say fifty people, definitely no more than sixty.” Vivian tapped her lips with her fingertip.

This time, Jules did whimper, but she covered it with a cough.

“It’ll be a dinner party. Call Hélène Darroze and see if she’ll do the honors.”

Hélène Darroze was a Michelin-starred Parisian chef. Her mind boggled.

Vivian continued, “Wine…Mouton Rothschild and Puligny-Montrachet for the six guests at my table. Get Hélène’s recommendation for the rest. And speak to Tomás when you call my florist; he always knows what I’ll like. Nothing too fancy. I’m thinking minimalist arrangements of orchids.”

“Okay.” Her head was spinning in a different, less pleasant, way now. She returned to her desk and picked up the phone.

Secure the chef first: no easy task as Hélène Darroze was what you could call in demand, but if Vivian wanted her, Jules would get her. Then the venue. Having a guest list would help, but for starters Jules would just find a few places in Manhattan and then one or two farther afield. Nothing less than five-star, naturally. For sixty people.

Nothing too fancy, my ass. All this in one month? On what, a whim? Vivian hadn’t even said what the party was for or who she wanted to invite. It had been a while since she’d made a demand this over-the-top.

At least it distracted her from thinking about the lazy slide of Vivian’s walk and the purr in her voice. Some. A little. Maybe.

Damn.

But nothing said she had to take it lying down. Well, she’d love to take it lying down. Which was the whole problem. She needed to fight back.

“Jules? You okay?”

Allie was looking at her with a little moue of concern.

She scrambled to get her wits together. “Oh! Sure, I’m fine.”

“You just look kinda spacey.”

“I’m fine,” Jules repeated firmly. “We’ve got a new assignment. A big one.”

Allie perked up. “Is it about shoes and aromatherapy?”